


They Met Their Match

by PantheraShadow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cute, Deduction, Elementary - Freeform, F/M, Funny, Gen, sherlock the date ruiner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:51:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PantheraShadow/pseuds/PantheraShadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds a girlfriend, and Sherlock finds an intellectual equal. Seems like everyone's finding their match... One shot for now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Met Their Match

**Author's Note:**

> This story was something that popped Into my head a while back. Just for fun, a bit silly, and using real deductions.   
> If you guys want a multi-chapter continuation, I have a few ideas. But, for now, just a one shot.   
> Disclaimer: I'm sure you can deduce that I am not the owner of Sherlock, nor do I claim to be.

"And for the lady?"  
"Oh, I don't drink," I told the waiter. "Just water for me, please."  
He nodded and left.   
"Why don't you drink?" John asked.   
"Terrible for the liver," I replied. 'And not a good combination with pain meds,' I thought.   
John nodded, awkwardly glancing around and then turning back to me. "So..." He began.   
"Very loquacious," I laughed. The conversation had run a bit dry when we'd arrived at the restaurant. But I liked John—of course, I didn't really have anyone to compare him to; I was the kind of girl who guys preferred to have as a friend rather than a date. But John was very nice, and pretty darn adorable.   
I smiled at him, then glanced over his shoulder. "By the way, there's someone behind you."  
John turned around abruptly, clearly frustrated as he saw the person behind him. "Sherlock! How many times is it n—" he began to whisper fiercely.   
"You didn't tell me you had a date tonight." The man—Sherlock, I assumed—spoke very quickly. He had curly black hair and a sort of smirk/frown that didn't seem to change at all. It suggested a hesitance to show emotion, or, perhaps, a hesitance to experience emotion.   
"You have a tendency of interrupting them," John retorted.   
"I just got a very interesting case," Sherlock informed him, the corners of his smrown turning up almost unnoticeably.   
"Can't it wait until tomorrow?"   
"I'm bored."  
I laughed lightly. "John, if you have something else to do, we can do this later."  
"No," he said firmly, though I wasn't sure if it was towards me or to Sherlock. "I am not going to let you do this again!" It was to Sherlock.   
"Come on, it's a brilliant murder!"  
"No!"   
Sherlock looked at me, then back at John. "She's not being completely honest with you, anyway."  
I raised an eyebrow at the man. While, yes, there were things I wasn't disclosing, that didn't mean...  
"Oh, no. You're not going to do this again, are you?" John sighed.   
"Arthritis, chronic. Recent knee replacement. You should still be on crutches," the tall newcomer told me. I opened my mouth to speak, but he continued on. "You go to great lengths to hide it in public, afraid of showing weakness."  
"Sherlock..."  
He ignored John's interruption. "This is your first date, and you think you went overboard with the dress, which you are clearly uncomfortable in. So, you try to even it out with more casual conversation. But you're still nervous. Educated, too; no one uses "loquacious" in casual conversation. You're a writer, but prefer typing to handwriting. You recently sent off a manuscript."  
I slumped back a little, glancing between the two men. John was looking resigned and apologetic, he didn't mind me keeping my weakness from him. Sherlock's expression didn't change.   
"Spot on," I confirmed. "Although, I did tell John that last bit. But how could you tell this was my first date? The nervousness could be due to other factors."  
"A bit of a stretch. The muscles in your face aren't very developed, so you haven't kissed, not regularly anyway."  
Impressive. But, I could certainly try to match that.   
"You are a detective, though not officially; you take cases on, well, a case-by-case basis," I observed. That much was obvious. "Your expression suggests a hesitance to show emotion, or perhaps even experience it. Possibly a high-functioning sociopath, but self-diagnosed, you aren't on any medication or under any sort of therapy. Personally, I don't think that's likely. You clearly have an attachment to John, here, or you would have taken this case yourself." I held Sherlock's gaze steadily. "And you recently purchased new shoes."  
Sherlock didn't blink. "You're actually a blond."  
"You had chicken pox at a young age."  
"One of your hobbies is henna tattooing."  
"You bit your fingernails as a child, though you stopped that habit years ago."  
In my peripheral vision, I saw John gape at us.   
"You work a day job at the grocery."  
"You always forget the milk."  
"How did you get that one?"  
I smirked. "John mentioned that his flatmate had trouble remembering the groceries."  
"Impressive," said Sherlock.   
"You too," I replied.   
Sherlock studied me for a moment longer, then asked, "would it be alright if she comes too, then? That won't interrupt your date."  
I glanced at John, who seemed quite startled. He looked from Sherlock, to me, then back and forth again. At his inquiring gaze, I shrugged and smiled. I wouldn't mind investigating a murder. That had to be at least as exciting as writing one.   
John looked between us and sighed. "Check, please," he mumbled to a passing waiter.


End file.
